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PS 3517 
.R87 
C35 
1911 
Copy 1 



lantecler's Last Chant 

ialistic Study of Agricultural Conditions 

By Wallace Irwin 

Author of " The Love Sonnets of a Hoodlum, " 
"Letters of a Japanese Schoolboy," etc. 




Read at the Annual Dinner of 

The University Club Farmers 

Thursday, January Fifth, 1911 
New York 



Copyright, 191 i, by Wallace Irwin 



CC!.A2S0564 



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Chantecler's Last Chant 

A Realistic Study of Agricultural Conditions 



Scene: — A University Farm, the same being pleasantly rustic, but lacking that crude 
odor of new-laid fertilizer which makes the ordinary farm of commerce so 
hard to live with. This Farm is under a high state of intellectual cultivation 
and its master's superior personality is made evident by the tasteful arrangement 
of a group of farming implements reclining against the pump and reminding 
us inevitably of Millet's later manner. To the left of the stage a large, dark 
Mortgage hovers over the landscape, adding a sombre suggestion of Rembrandt 
to the scene. 

At rise of curtain a Dock, a Cow, a Chantecler, a Horse, a Bee, and 
a Goat are discovered standing comfortably in such a way that the Mortgage 
will shelter them from the wind. A Learned Pig, somewhat apart from the 
rest, sits in a Morris chair reading earnestly from a large scientific work. 



CHANTECLER 

Cock-a-doo-doo ! 

The light's in the skies, 

Phoebus 'gins rise 
And life springs anew. 
Aurora's bright crew 

Rejoice, dew-empearled. 
The morning train tooting 
And puffing and scooting 

Is cityward whirled. 
The boss is commuting — 

All's well with the world. 

THE GOAT 

Ba-a-a! Ba-a-a! By the wisdom of the owl 

And the watch-dog's dismal howl, 

Mr. Chantecler, you sure are quite a Hterary fowl. 

Sir, your crowing is so classic — though I don't know what it 

means — 
That I'm sure 'twould be accepted by the current magazines. 



CHANTECLER 

Since on my rare poetic skill you've complimented me, 
I'll tell you where I learned the trick — from Arthur Scribner's 
Bee. 

ALL {turning to the bee) 

Is it true he learned from thee, 
Mr. Arthur Scribner's Bee? 

THE BEE (buzzing proudly) 

To be the Bee of a Magazine Editor, 

What could a sweet-loving bug more desire? 
Art is my debtor and Passion my creditor — 

My heart and my sting are both loaded with fire. 
E'en as New Jersey is famed for its lettuce, 

Verdant and crisp when concocted in salads, 
So, have I found, is the slope of Hymettus 

Fertile with herbage deHcious for ballads. 
Metres that rippled o'er Tempe's bright gravel, 

Dripping with honey I bring from afar 

THE GOAT 

Meaning, I reckon, that African travel 
Signed with a bullet by Theodore R. 

THE BEE (buzzing angrily) 

Butt if you will this old gray head, 

Yet spare, O spare the Contributing Ed.! 

(The Bee stings the Goat, who, startled by this im- 
answerable bit of repartee, plunges headforemost into 
the Learned Pig.) 

THE learned pig 

Wee, wee! Excuse my French — my dear Mr. Goat, next tim^e 
you see fit to describe an eccentric parabola through the 
circumambient ether, would you mind so adjusting your 
orbit as to avoid my centre of gravity ? You so startled me 
that I skipped three paragraphs in the Annual Report of 
the American Philosophical Society. 



THE COW 

What a bright mind the Pig has! 

THE LEARNED PIG 

My dear Madam, do not congratulate me. Knowledge with 
me is merely an acquired characteristic. It is natural that 
I should not be simple like other swine. Do you know 
whose Pig I am? 

ALL 

Yes, we know — you are Professor Pupin's Pig. 

THE LEARNED PIG 

Right in the last analysis. Now, my crude but worthy com- 
panions, since you are wantoning your time in profitless 
leisure, the otium vita, mistakenly prized by the ancients, 
permit me to improve your minds and contribute to your 
culture by telling you the story of my life. 

ALL 

The Learned Pig is going to tell you the story of his life! 

THE LEARNED PIG 

O, I was born in Kisco, Mt. Kisco, fair and high. 
I spent my early shoathood in Farmer Semple's sty. 

In Ceres' airy temple 

No kindlier man than Semple 
E'er cheered a dying mother pig or dried the orphan's eye. 

Forgive me, friends, if my refrain 

Now strikes upon a minor strain — 
For Semple's pigs they grew so fat he tried in vain to bant 'em — 
My brothers perished in a night of cholera infantum. 

The Semple pride, all pippin-fed, 

Each laid to earth his piggy head 
And, toes to heaven, passed away as fast as they could plant 'em. 

So in that sickening waste of pork I swore I would not stay. 
I quickly packed my pig-skin bag and started right away. 

Stealing past good Squire Cowdin's bins 

And Dr. Bailey's crop of twins, 



Past Seth Low's acres, so reformed you dare not shock the hay, 
I took the next Long Island train 
And fair Long Island's shores did gain. 

And there I saw Squire Godwin's farm of lovely villa sites. 

"Oh, here I'd like to live," said I, 

Whereat Squire Godwin answered dry, 

"If you stay here you'll have to buy!" 
Which scared me so I quickly fled this garden of delights. 

Too long I might protract this pome 

In telling how I sought a home, 
How once I stopped at Colgate's farm and lingered there a bit 

Until they told me that the boss 

Was raising stock at such a loss 
He had to run a bank or two to pay the deficit. 

THE GOAT 

Most 'Varsity Farmers run in debt — 

Exceptin', maybe, Ed Burnett 
Who spends his time and talent teachin' farmin' to the wealthy. 

He'll turn the greenest amateur 

Into an expert plough-chauffeur — 
Ed says, " Why kick about the cost, so long as you are healthy ? " 

THE LEARNED PIG {continuing with the story of his life) 

This twisted little pig's tale that I tell 

Is drawing near its waggish little end. 
I rooted long, and came at last to dwell 

Upon the land of Prof. Pupin, my friend. 
He's given me a cosey little shed 

Supplied with strange electrical devices; 
A Pupin Coil it winds around my bed 

While many a wireless wave soft sleep entices. 
And all day long my hours I do amuse 

Helping my master in his labors tejis, 
Writing reports for Technical Reviews 

And selling butter to the great St. Regis. 

(The Pig prepares to boast in detail of his master's scien- 
tific achievements, but his rhapsody is interrupted by a 
terrified soprano gobble from without. Chantecler, 
at the sound, dusts off his wings, ruffies his pin-feathers, 



and goes through all the motions of one preparing to 
make a great killing among the fair sex. The soprano 
gobbles grow louder and a beautiful Turkey Hen rushes 
hysterically into the barn-yard.) 

THE TURKEY HEN 

Gobble, gobble! My heart's in my mouth. Gobble! — there! 
I swallowed it! 

CHANTECLER 

Be calm, lady. I'll protect you. 

THE TURKEY HEN 

Are you capable of defending one so weak as I? 

CHANTECLER 

Am I? I want you to understand, Madam, that I'm Paul 
Cravath's rooster. My boss never lost a case. What are 
you running away from? 

THE TURKEY HEN 

Three constables and a Pinkerton man have been pursuing 
me all day. It is Christmas week and no turkey of my 
obvious charms is safe alone. Hide me! 

(At her words all the denizens of the barn-yard, with the 
notable exception of Chantecler, show signs of dis- 
trust.) 

THE goat 

Ba-ba, rooster-chick. 

Your ways are harem-scarem. 
From matrimonial bonds you kick 

And add a Turk to your harem! 

THE cow 

It's a scandal, a disgrace! 
It's another Crippen case 

THE HORSE 

Leaves his wedded wife and lawful — 
These Affinities are awful. 



CHANTECLER (taking ike turkey hen chivalrously by a wing) 

Friends, a needless fuss you make 
And my motives you mistake. 
In my heart is no affection — 
She has asked me for protection. 
'Tis no yielding to her beauty, 
But a manly sense of duty 

Sets me trembling like a palsy. 



BARN-YARD CHORUS 

That's exactly what they all say! 

the turkey hen (slightly offended) 

By my gobble, friends, I swear 
That this gallant Chantecler 
Is a high and noble gent 
With no sinister intent. 
He is gentle and Quixotic, 
Holding never a thought erotic. 
Lend him to me, O, I pray. 
To conduct me on my way — 
He'll return ere close of day. 

Otherwise I would abhor him. 

THE GOAT 

Take the gallant gent away — 

But we won't wait supper for him. 

(Chantecler and the Turkey Hen depart in a northerly 
direction. The denizens of the barn-yard, apparently 
depressed by this evideijce of almost human depravity, 
huddle together under the Mortgage and indulge in a 
session of silence. Suddenly from a near-by hen-house 
comes a triumphant and prolonged cackle.) 

the cow (in a hushed voice) 
Listen! It is Mrs. Chantecler. 



THE GOAT 

Poor thing— she has just laid another egg for him! 

(The curtain falls mercifully in time to cover the general 
embarrassment.) 



EPILOGUE 

Two long weeks have passed away 

O'er this scene of 'Varsity Farming. 
Chantecler doth still delay 

With that Turkey young and charming. 
Nightly in the lonely coop 

Mrs. Chanty hghts the candle. 
Daily doth the barn-yard whoop 

With this latest poultry scandal. 
O whence came that Turkey Hen 

To that farm she so divided? 
Will poor Chant come back again — 

Has he gone and suicided? 

Back and forth these questions popped, 

Till, joy-riding in a Packard, 
Came a constable who stopped 

At the farm and nailed this placard 
To the gate — "Lost, stole, or stray 

Fourteen turkeys, each a gem. 
If returned without delay 
You'll receive the proper pay 

From their owner, J. P. M." 




One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



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